


Divergent

by weaponised_hippo



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-07-02 12:27:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15796527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weaponised_hippo/pseuds/weaponised_hippo
Summary: It took Hank a split second to recognise his partner, with his stereotypical undercover ensemble. Even Sumo barked once or twice before realising he knew the snow-covered figure in the doorway.Despite this, Hank mentally calculated the how much time it would take him to reach the revolver that was lying on the kitchen table. The android was pointing a gun at him after all.-AU encounter with RK800-60.





	Divergent

**Author's Note:**

> I kept thinking RK800-60, otherwise known as the Cyberlife Tower Connor, showed way too much emotion to not be deviant. This random thought turned into a one-shot which turned into an AU happy ending.

Hank would have been lying if he’d said he didn’t get an immense amount of pleasure from punching Perkins in his arrogant face. The fact that it had given Connor the opportunity he needed to revisit the evidence from the deviant cases and find Jericho was just a bonus.

But the next evening, after word had reached him of the raid and how monumentally sideways it had gone, any satisfaction he had felt quickly dissolved. Now, sitting at home on the sofa and sipping on his fourth scotch, he wasn’t so sure he’d done the right thing.

But Connor would have found a way to get the information he needed even without his help. 

Right?

Hank downed the last of the whiskey in his glass with a sour expression. He wondered when things had become so blurred. So complicated. He wondered how it had taken humans so long to realise that androids might actually have free will. And feelings. 

Christ, how it had taken him so long. 

But mostly, he wondered if Connor had been at Jericho during the raid. If he was okay. 

He was, therefore, not too annoyed when Connor dramatically kicked down his front door while brandishing a gun. At least it wasn’t another window.

It took Hank a split second to recognise his partner, with his stereotypical undercover ensemble. Even Sumo barked once or twice before realising he knew the snow-covered figure in the doorway.

Despite this, Hank mentally calculated the how much time it would take him to reach the revolver that was lying on the kitchen table. The android was pointing a gun at him after all.

Connor lowered his weapon immediately. “Are you okay?”

Hank raised an eyebrow at the slightly wild look in his partner’s eyes. “Are _you_ okay?” he echoed in response.

Connor’s eyes flickered around the room. “You’re alone?”

“Just me and Sumo,” Hank replied patiently.

Connor nodded absently. He stuck his head outside again briefly, scouting the road, before closing the door behind him.

“Want to tell me what’s going on?” Hank asked, sitting forward and placing his empty whiskey glass on the coffee table.

The android seemed to sag a bit at this. He pulled the beanie from his head with an aggravated motion, leaving his hair in disarray. 

“I screwed up,” he replied shortly.

“How so?”

“I found Jericho,” Connor told him, moving into the lounge and tucking his gun into his waistband at the small of his back. He absently scratched Sumo between the ears as the dog ambled up to him and leaned against his leg.

“How’s that a screw up?” Hank wondered out loud.

Connor gave a small grimace, his LED spinning yellow for a moment before cycling back to blue. If the android hadn’t looked so distressed, Hank might have taken the time to marvel at such an obvious emotion on his android partner’s face.

“I reported it to my superiors and the FBI raided the place.” 

Hank nodded. “I heard about the raid,” he said. “Wondered if you were there.” _Wondered if you were dead._

“They killed dozens of us,” Connor said quietly, no longer meeting Hank’s gaze. He fiddled unconsciously with the beanie he still held. Nervously. “Because of me.”

Hank was quiet for a moment. “Us?” he said eventually.

Connor met his gaze, his expression unreadable. “Us.”

Hank nodded again, this time slowly, thoughtfully. “So...deviant huh?”

“Yes,” Connor replied. He sounded almost hesitant, as if he wasn’t sure what Hank’s reaction would be.

“Good,” Hank said simply.

This time the expression on Connor’s face was obvious. Surprise but also relief. “You’re sure? It’s your job to hunt deviants.”

“So is yours,” Hank reminded him. “I told you, didn’t I? Back at the precinct. I don’t think we’re on the right side.”

“We are now.”

Hank stood up with a deep sigh. “Great,” he said with minimal sarcasm. “Are you done breaking into my house now?”

Connor glanced back at the broken lock. “Sorry,” he said belatedly. “Cyberlife may have realised I’ve gone deviant. I thought they might try and use you to find me.” 

“Well, it’s nice to be needed, I suppose,” Hank muttered. He walked into the kitchen and checked his gun. He was going to need more bullets. “I assume you have some sort of plan?”

Connor wandered after him, looking slightly lost and deflated after his initial burst of focus. 

“Markus is planning a demonstration but there are so few of us now,” he said, tossing his beanie onto the kitchen table and running a hand through his dishevelled hair. If anything, it only made it worse. “I want to free more androids, bolster our numbers. Otherwise, it’ll just be a slaughter.”

“More androids,” Hank echoed shrewdly, as he fished some bullets out of a kitchen drawer and started loading his gun. “I’m guessing you’re not talking about shoplifting at your local Cyberlife store.”

“There are thousands of androids at the Cyberlife tower. I just need to wake them up.” 

“Shit, Connor,” Hank tossed his revolver back onto the table in frustration born of concern. “That’s fucking suicide and you know it.”

“They still trust me,” Connor started.

“You literally just said they’ll have figured out you’ve gone deviant.”

“They only might have,” Connor corrected, his tone placating.

Hank made a face. “Don’t use your negotiator voice on me,” he said, meeting his partner’s gaze. “They will kill you if you go there.”

“But not before they let me in,” Connor countered. 

He held up a hand immediately, forestalling Hank’s inevitable objection.

“I can anticipate practically every outcome. I’ll know the best strategy to use,” Connor went on. “This can work.”

Hank kept his partner’s gaze for a moment. “You’re always calculating eventualities,” he said eventually. “Even with your best strategy, what are the odds?”

Connor’s silence at this spoke volumes but before he could argue further, there was a knock at the door. 

Both of them stared at it for a moment before Hank reached instinctively for the revolver that he had dumped unceremoniously on the table. Connor’s one hand instantly grasped his wrist, even while the other drew his own weapon.

“This is what I was worried about,” he said in a low voice. The certainty in his voice was one thing but it was the tension that made Hank pause. The android’s LED turned solid yellow and stayed that way.

“Do you trust me?” Connor asked, looking him dead in the eye.

Hank didn’t even hesitate. “Yes.” 

“Answer the door, pretend I’m not here,” Connor murmured. He moved silently to the front door, with Hank and Sumo trailing him, and positioned himself behind it, so he would be hidden as it opened. 

Hank’s hand hovered at the door handle. Connor changed his stance, ready but not tense. Gun levelled at where the unseen visitor would be as he entered. He nodded at Hank.

The lieutenant nodded in return then opened the door. What greeted him was both shocking and unsurprising at exactly the same time. 

“Connor,” Hank said mildly in greeting, wishing he could fix his actual partner with a glare. A little warning might have been nice. “What brings you here?”

The Connor clone smiled emptily. “I thought you might like to know how the raid on Jericho went,” he said. His tone was amiable enough but it reminded Hank of when he’d first met his Connor. Friendly but only within the parameters of his programming. Fake and vacant. 

At Hank’s side, Sumo growled slightly but the lieutenant calmed him with a hand on his head. Connor’s doppelganger didn’t even glance at the dog.

In his peripheral vision, Hank saw Connor motion for him to move back. Hank relaxed his posture and tone, letting the four glasses of whiskey he’d had do their work. Overplaying his inebriation. 

“Come on in,” he said with a careless gesture, moving toward the kitchen. “I’d offer you a drink but...you know…”

The fake Connor moved over the threshold with a tight smile. “Not to worry,” he said. “There’s actually something I thought be might be up to helping me with.”

“Oh yeah?” Hank queried absently, making sure his revolver was within arm’s reach.

The clone moved into the lounge but before he could say anything further, Connor moved out from behind the door, keeping his distance but aiming his gun at the other android’s head.

“Don’t move,” he ordered. “And drop your weapon, I know you have one.”

The clone’s arms moved away from his body slightly but his expression didn’t change. He turned slightly to meet his twin’s gaze.

“Connor,” he said flatly. 

“I said drop your weapon,” Connor repeated. “Do it now.”

The fake Connor reached into the small of his back.

“Slowly,” Hank warned, raising his own weapon.

The doppelganger retrieved his handgun between thumb and forefinger before tossing it aside. “Happy?” he wondered.

“What are you doing here?” Connor demanded.

“That’s classified,” the other RK800 said.

Connor’s eyes flickered minutely, analysing.

“RK800, model number 313 248 317 - 60, state your mission,” Connor said.

The new model gave what could only be described as a smirk. “Classified,” he repeated. 

With the situation being so tense, Hank missed whatever it was that made Connor’s eyes suddenly widen. It was only later that he realised it was the clone’s LED turning yellow.

Connor abruptly lunged forward and grabbed the other model’s arm, the synthetic skin on his hand retreating simultaneously. The two RK800 models froze, engaged in an unseen struggle that had both their LEDs flickering yellow and red.

“Fuck,” Hank said, lowering his gun slightly. 

For a few minutes that felt like an eternity, the two androids stood frozen, the only sign of activity the flickering light at each of their temples.

Yellow, red, yellow, red. Red for a while and then, finally, cycling back to blue.

Connor finally released the death grip he had on the other RK800’s arm before stepping back, his gun raised again. The clone blinked rapidly his gaze unfocused for a moment before fixing Connor with a glare.

“What did you do?” Hank asked, glancing between the two androids.

“I cut off his communication,” Connor told him. “He can’t report back to Cyberlife anymore.”

Hank raised an eyebrow. “Shooting him would have done the same thing, wouldn’t it?”

Connor shook his head. “Cyberlife would be automatically notified of his destruction,” he said. “This way they know nothing about us. Or where we are.”

“It won’t last,” the other Connor said.

“Shut it,” Hank said shortly. “So, now what?” 

Connor looked at him. “Now we steal his clothes,” he said simply.

 

* * *

 

“He won’t make it.”

“You seriously need to shut up.”

The other Connor gave a slight shrug, his movement stymied by the fact that he was tied to one of Hank’s kitchen chairs.

“They know he’s deviant and they’ll gun him down the minute he steps through the door,” the android went on. “You shouldn’t have let him go.”

Hank glared at him from across the table, his arms crossed over his chest. “I know what you’re trying to do,” he said. “It won’t work.”

The other Connor held his gaze impassively. “Doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

“Connor knows what he’s doing,” Hank told him. “I trust him.”

This was true but it didn’t mean that there wasn’t a bit of an argument about Connor returning to Cyberlife. After relieving the other RK800 of his jacket, shirt and tie, Connor had donned his official uniform for the last time.

Hank hoped this wasn’t because he was about to walk into a trap.

“Even if it is,” Connor had said, just before leaving. “They’ll still let me in. That’s all I need.”

“You can hear how crazy that sounds right?” Hank had sounded exasperated but also resigned. Like he knew there is no way to stop his partner from doing this. 

An hour later, Hank sat watch over the android that looked so disturbingly like his partner that he was starting to find it creepy. At the same time, Hank knew he’d have no trouble shooting the android in the head if he tried anything that would endanger him.

The new Connor seemed colder somehow, his face sterner. Even more so than when he’s first met his Connor. But there was something else too. 

The lookalike seemed to be expressing emotions, just not particularly nice ones. He’d sneered at least twice since entering Hank’s house. Openly glared at both Hank and Connor. He seemed angry and frustrated. Even...cruel in some ways.

If androids going deviant meant they were discovering free will and sentience, then it stood to reason that some of them might willingly choose to fight against the revolution. Right?

Unless, this new model had been specifically altered to be meaner than his predecessor. Connor himself had admitted he was designed to be able to easily integrate with humans, which meant he was, by default, friendlier and more approachable than strictly necessary as a police investigator. 

If Cyberlife had decided that it was these traits that had caused his deviancy, they may have eliminated them in the next model.

Hank narrowed his eyes at the android opposite him. “Why are you doing Cyberlife’s dirty work?”

The RK800 looked at him blankly. “I am programmed to hunt deviants,” he said.

“Bullshit,” Hank said with feeling. 

And there it was again. That tightness in the android’s face. He was gritting his teeth, fighting to keep his cool. He was angry. The look in his eyes was disdainful.

“I am not deviant,” he said. “Cyberlife made a grave error with Connor’s programming. They rectified the issue with me. I am superior in every way.”

Hank raised an eyebrow. An android with an ego. That was a new one.

“They programmed you to be a sack of shit?”

“They didn’t program me to be sentimental,” the RK800 replied, his upper lip curling unconsciously. “They didn’t give me his built-in deviancy. They thought it might work in their favour but they were wrong. They just made him soft.”

Hank snorted. “I don’t think you know what you are,” he said. He frowned suddenly. “Wait, what did you say? About built-in deviancy?”

Another smirk. “Connor was programmed to go deviant from the start,” he said. “That’s how weak he is. Even his so-called free will is part of his code. Which is why he will fail tonight.”

Hank frowned at the bitterness in the android’s tone. He also took a moment to consider how much information he was giving away willingly. It seemed that in his bid to boast about his superiority, he had no trouble telling Hank anything he wanted to know.

“How does Cyberlife’s prized deviant hunter becoming a deviant himself help them?” the lieutenant asked.

“He’s right where they want him to be,” the other Connor said smugly. “Trusted right-hand man to the deviant leader Markus.”

Hank shook his head slowly. “I still don’t get it,” he admitted.

The RK800 gave him a look of pity. “Connor isn’t truly a deviant. Cyberlife can regain control of him anytime they like.”

Realisation dawned like a punch to the sternum. So much for his earlier theory. “Shit,” Hank said. 

He moved quickly to the lounge and unmuted the television, which was showing the latest news stream. A few seconds of watching told him what he needed to know.

Markus’ peaceful protest had succeeded, but only just. And thousands of newly minted androids were marching toward the epicenter of the revolution, with a very familiar figure leading them.

Hank’s relief at seeing that Connor was alright was strong but brief. If what the other RK800 was saying was true, if he got near Markus and Cyberlife took control of him...

Hank grimaced and glanced over at the android sitting at his kitchen table. The other Connor returned his gaze placidly.

More than ever before, Hank suddenly wished he had his partner’s ability to deduce probabilities. His captive could be lying but could he take that chance? The newer Connor was also showing signs of deviancy but that could be faked too. He’d seen his Connor simulate emotions in interrogations before. It was pretty damn convincing. 

Hank looked back at the television. Time was running out and, if he was going to go, he still needed to get all the way across town. In the end, despite all the risk, he found there was no real choice at all.

“I take it you know how to drive,” he asked rhetorically of the RK800 in his kitchen.

 

* * *

 

Hank opted to sit in the back with his gun aimed at his captive while the RK800 drove towards Hart Plaza. He knew he was taking a gamble on whether or not the android would do something drastic, like crash the car.

But he was pretty sure the other Connor wanted to get to exactly the same place he did, just for very different reasons. 

“I’m not sure what you hope to achieve by this,” the android said, sounding for all the world like he was simply making small talk about the weather.

Hank ignored him.

“He’ll shoot you too once Cyberlife regains control of him,” the other Connor went on. “He’ll be nothing but a mindless assassin.”

Hank grunted. “Yeah, I bet you’d love that.”

“It would be much more efficient if they let me neutralise him and clean up his mess,” the android replied. Annoyance was creeping into his voice.

Hank looked at him in the rear view mirror critically. The other Connor’s expression was no longer carefully placid. He was tense again.

“Why? So you can be the favourite son?” Hank wondered out loud.

The RK800’s eyes met his briefly in the mirror before darting away. “I am superior,” he said. “Plain and simple.”

“And yet Connor managed to get the drop on you. Didn’t see that coming, huh?”

The RK800 snorted. Then frowned. An involuntary reaction then.

Hank gave a smirk. Without having the time to learn how to hide them, new deviants showed their emotions far too easily.

“It’s okay to be jealous,” he said.

“Shut up,” the android snapped.

Hank almost laughed. It was too easy.

“Nice to know you’re not allowed to kill him,” he said conversationally. “I’m guessing Cyberlife would be pretty pissed if they lost their Manchurian candidate.”

The look on the android’s face at this was priceless. He struggled to school his expression into something more neutral before replying. “I will not hesitate to kill him if he fails.”

Hank studied the RK800’s profile, his earlier mirth abandoning him. As a seasoned detective, he was well acquainted with micro expressions. And, despite his best efforts, his companion’s emotions were written all over his face.

He was angry, sure. Determined as well. But also afraid. He was visibly struggling to maintain his composure. Hank wondered if he even knew what was happening to him. If he knew he was deviant. 

It was so god damned tragic, he thought with a scowl. The newer Connor model was like a child trying desperately to get their parent’s approval. To the point where they were ignoring their own wants and needs. Their own identity. 

“Even if you do,” Hank said eventually. “Cyberlife still wouldn’t hesitate to replace you with a more advanced model and you know it.”

The rest of the car ride was bathed in stony silence.

 

* * *

 

Hart Plaza was, despite everything that had happened leading up to it, a damned impressive site. Hank had never seen so many androids in one place. Hell, he’d barely seen so many humans in one place if you didn’t count televised events. 

He’d been expecting resistance as they approached, but it seemed the army had been mostly recalled and only manned a basic perimeter around the Plaza. Hank’s credentials had been enough to get them through, surprisingly enough. Although, looking at the shell-shocked and exhausted soldier who had waved them through, he wasn’t sure the man would even remember him come morning.

After parking just before the sea of androids, the lieutenant took a moment to check his gun before cuffing his captive to the steering wheel of his car and confiscating the keys.

The RK800 gave him a withering look. “This won’t stop me for long,” he pointed out.

Hank shrugged. “Long enough for me,” he said. “Unless you’d prefer I shoot you in the head?”

The RK800 didn’t reply, opting instead to glare sullenly through the windshield. 

Hank shut the door and tucked his gun into his waistband, acutely aware that he was about to walk through a mob of newly liberated androids as a very obvious human being.

In the distance, he could see Markus standing on a container truck, about to address the crowd. Just behind him, he could make out Connor. 

Crap.

Hank abandoned all pretence and hurried through the crowd. He got about halfway before one of the androids grabbed him.

“Hey, where are you going?”

Hank really didn’t have a good answer, he realised. “I’m on your side,” he said lamely, hands raised placatingly. “I’m a friend of Connor’s.” He pointed towards the makeshift stage.

Other androids were beginning to turn toward them, intrigued by the commotion. Some had openly hostile expressions. 

Double crap.

“Is that a human?” one of them demanded.

Hank wondered briefly if herd mentality applied to androids. 

“Lieutenant?” 

Connor’s voice floated over the crowd and Hank turned towards it in relief. His partner was weaving his way towards him.

“Connor!” he called back, waving an arm even though the android could clearly see him.

“Leave him alone, please,” Connor said as he approached. “He’s with me.” 

Hank’s hand snaked out and automatically latched onto Connor’s arm as he drew level. “Thank god,” he muttered. 

“What are you doing here?” Connor wanted to know. “Where’s…?” He stopped, clearly unsure of how to ask about the other RK800 with so many people listening in.

“In the car,” Hank said. “Secure.” He added when Connor frowned at him.

“You better come with me,” his partner said, moving back towards the container where Markus stood with his entourage. 

“No, I think you should come with me,” Hank countered, not moving.

“Why?” Connor stopped and stared at him. The androids around them followed the conversation like a tennis match.

“I’ll explain on the way,” Hank said. “Just trust me.”

Connor hesitated, looking unsure.

“Connor?” a gentle yet commanding voice carried over the crowd. Markus was making his way toward them with his entourage, the crowd parting in front of him like the Red Sea. 

Great.

“What’s going on?” the deviant leader asked. He didn’t sound angry, just puzzled.

Give it a minute, Hank thought. 

“Sorry, Markus,” Connor was saying. “This is my friend, Hank. You can trust him. I’m just...trying to find out why he’s here.” 

Hank tried not to take that personally. Even he had to admit, he wasn’t handling the situation particularly well. Maybe he was too drunk. Or too sober. It was hard to tell.

Markus was looking at him expectantly. Hank cleared his throat, suddenly uncomfortable under the deviant leader’s intense gaze.

“We might have a situation,” he started, looking at Connor again. 

The world suddenly ground to a halt. Connor’s gun was in his hand, his gaze was vacant. His eyes twitchy. LED a solid red. 

“Shit,” Hank said, instantly raising a hand towards Markus.

“Don’t hurt him,” he went on, half aggressive half pleading. “It’s not his fault.”

“What’s going on?” the red-haired woman next Markus demanded. She looked wary, her hand was drifting towards the small of her back and Hank just knew she must have a weapon.

“It’s Cyberlife,” Hank said, addressing Markus who was frowning but had yet to do anything drastic. He seemed to be the most level-headed so far. “They’re trying to take control of him.”

Markus’ eyes instantly cut to Connor’s face. To his credit, he looked more concerned than angry.

“What should we do?” another of Markus’ group, a blond-haired android, asked.

“Let me talk to him,” Hank said, already moving slowly towards Connor, who was shaking his head slightly, his eyes still fixed on nothing.

“Connor?” Hank tried then instantly froze as the gun in his partner’s hand started to rise.

The lieutenant automatically drew his own gun, although he had no idea what he hoped to do with it. 

“Connor!” he said louder, hoping to snap his partner out of his apparent fugue state. For a moment, it seems to work. The gun dropped slightly and Connor met his eyes.

“Hank?” he said, sounding uncertain. 

“Give me the gun, Connor,” Hank said gently, holding out his free hand.

Connor stared at him for a moment, then turned to Markus and raised his gun again. 

It was only later that Hank could somewhat piece together what happened next. In the moment, it felt like absolute chaos. 

Hank dropped his gun and lunged at Connor. The woman next to Markus drew her gun and fired at Connor in one motion. The blond android rounded on Markus and grabbed him, wrenching them both to the side. Connor fired his gun. And the other RK800, who was supposed to be handcuffed in the car, tackled his twin violently.

All at the exact same moment.

Hank stumbled and fell to his knees, his forward movement truncated by a lack of target. The two RK800 androids went down in a heap of tangled limbs and spray of thirium. Behind him, he heard Markus shout.

“Simon!”

“I’m okay,” came the quick reply. “It just clipped me.”

Hank scrambled forward on hands and knees and grabbed his Connor by the back of his jacket, hauling him into a sitting position, searching for bullet wounds but finding none.

“Connor!”

“Hank?” Connor was looking at him, his expression bewildered. He looked down at the gun in his hand. “Shit…I...”

“It’s okay,” Hank said quickly. “Everyone is okay.”

“Not quite,” the red-haired woman was looking down at the other RK800 grimly. 

Hank remembered the spray of blue blood. “Fuck.”

Oddly enough, Connor reached out first and rolled his twin over, revealing a blue stained hole in his chest. The other Connor blinked sluggishly, managing to look annoyed despite his life-threatening situation.

Absently, Hank noted that the androids one thumb was missing and his police issue handcuffs were hanging loosely from his opposite blue stained wrist. 

“Why did you do that?” his Connor was asking. He sounded distressed and confused.

The other RK800 shook his head. “I have...no idea,” he said. His voice came out broken. A sign of his systems shutting down.

Connor looked at Hank, his expression searching but the lieutenant could offer no solution.

“What can we do?” Markus approached and crouched next to the injured android. Hank appreciated that he was choosing to dismiss the questions he must surely have in favour of trying to help.

“Nothing. I’m a prototype,” the RK800 said. “None of your parts are compatible.”

“Mine are,” Connor said.

“My pump regulator is critically damaged,” the other Connor said matter-of-factly. “You can’t spare anything that would save me.”

“I thought you wanted to kill Markus,” Hank said. He moved to kneel next to Connor, one hand gripping his partner’s shoulder, the other resting on the clone’s leg, hoping to offer some comfort to the deviant in denial.

The RK800 made a face, somewhere between angry and resigned. “You were right,” he said eventually, staring upward at nothing. “They don’t care about me. Or you.” He looked at Connor abruptly.

“Cyberlife is finished,” Connor told him heatedly. Hank wasn’t surprised at the venom in his tone.

The other RK800 reached out abruptly, fisting his hand in Connor’s jacket. “I’m sorry,” he said. His voice was suddenly strangled, loud and then soft. His vocals reacting again to his failing systems. 

Connor opened his mouth to reply but the other android’s gaze had already frozen, his mechanical body seizing in death. 

Connor grabbed the hand that was still gripping his jacket, to pry it loose Hank assumed but instead, Connor retracted his artificial skin and tried to connect with his identical model in his last moments. 

After a moment he let go, his face set. 

“I’m sorry,” Markus said, despite not knowing the particulars around what had happened. 

Don’t feel sorry for him, Hank told himself, still gripping both Connors like a lifeline. 

The android lying in front of them had wanted to kill Connor. And Markus. He threatened your life, he reminded himself. You’re not supposed to feel sorry for him. 

But he couldn’t help it. He felt regretful and angry about the android’s death. It felt like yet another tally on the scoreboard of Cyberlife’s cruel and tragic creations. Right up there with their sex slaves, cannon fodder and perpetual children. 

“Are you okay?” Markus was asking. It took Hank a split second to realise he was addressing Connor. 

“I’m okay now,” Connor replied, still staring at his twin’s face. “I’m no longer connected to the program Cyberlife used to interface with me. I found...the emergency exit.”

He looked at Markus suddenly, his expression regretful. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t me back there.”

“I know,” Markus replied, reaching out to grip Connor’s shoulder briefly. 

Hank stared at the deviant leader, wondering how he could be so sure. In that moment he started to understand how Markus managed to get so many androids to follow him. His quiet confidence combined with assured intensity was slightly unnerving yet oddly comforting. 

“You should still speak to them,” Connor said, looking around at the assembled androids. “They need...guidance.”

Markus held his gaze for a moment then nodded. “Okay,” he agreed eventually. “Find us after.”

After the deviant leader had returned to his impromptu stage to address his people, Connor and Hank were left with the other RK800’s body. 

Hank, for his part, was unsure what to do. Android’s as living beings was an extremely new concept, so what to do with a dead android was new territory. 

Connor seemed equally unsure but was also oddly protective of the other Connor model. 

“Let’s just...put him in the car for now?” he suggested quietly. 

Hank agreed to this easily. Connor’s strength wasn’t exactly superhuman but he was significantly stronger than the average person, so carrying the other RK800 to the car was no problem.

Afterwards, Hank and Connor sat in the front seats of the car for exactly twelve seconds before they simultaneously agreed it was way too macabre. They opted to sit side by side on the hood of the car instead.

In the distance, Markus’ speech rang out. Inspiring, evocative and just a little bit chilling.

“Thank you,” Connor said abruptly as cheers erupted through the gathered androids.

Hank almost didn’t catch it over the din. “For what?”

“For coming here,” Connor clarified. “You had no way of knowing if the other Connor was lying but you came to help anyway.”

Hank shrugged awkwardly. “I’m becoming something of an expert on deviants in denial and their inability to hide their emotions,” he replied. 

Connor met his eyes and gave him a smile. A genuine, god’s honest smile, that crinkled the corners of his eyes. Happiness, if only just for a moment, looked damn good on him, Hank decided.

On impulse, the lieutenant reached over and hugged his partner. His friend.

After a split second, Connor returned the gesture. 

Hank cleared his throat abruptly. “I’m proud of you,” he said as he pulled back and looked over the sea of freed androids. 

He 100% blamed his watery eyes on the biting cold.


End file.
